


ghosted

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 07:23:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	ghosted

The truth a Jinchuuriki learns early is that none are to be trusted.

 A hand will offer bread one moment, and dig a knife into you the next. The kind learned quickly to mask cruelty that reaches far beyond human measure. The bitter ones are truthful. Beatings are only therapeutic for so long. Lies fuel the mechanical, heartless world. Hushed tones and clinking coins grease the cogs. Blood cools that which overheats. Bones make up the levers and buttons.

Those who refuse to bow are killed and desecrated by the unmasked.

——

Naruto is martyred far younger than in canon.

He was dead before birth- destined to a painful existence from the get-go, loveless and hopeless- and he lets the truth sink in like stones. Mizuki grins, bitter-sharp, and he throws every one of the Fūma Shuriken he has. Iruka is not there to save his student. He sleeps, still and silent, mind dreaming peacefully.

The fox is nearly dead, as is the child. Mizuki, pleased with himself, leaves, believing he’ll be praised by all. The scroll is never found, and neither is the child himself.

——

Killer B sees a child in the corners of his vision, and when he turns to find them, they aren’t ever there. Gyūki is paranoid as the incidents continue- the child is tinted with Nine-tails’ chakra.

When he sits and does nothing, the blonde creeps just within his peripherals. Blue eyes stare inquisitively, asking questions about him. He answers, and sometimes the feeling of another’s tiny fingers ghosts across his hands.

He hopes to see the child fully, one day.

——

Night falls, and Gaara whimpers, curling up in fear, trying to bury himself under the blankets so he can run away from the monster. Mother can’t stop the monster, and it comes back.

A little boy covered in fatal wounds comes to play these nights. He whispers questions into Gaara’s ears, and no amount of sand can crush the boy- it refuses to respond while the boy is there. The assassins don’t come by, either.

—

Temari watches her little brother from the adjacent rooftop. He cries so much now- deep, wracking sobs that make her heart lurch- and tries to entomb himself under blankets. He sees something, or someone, and cries and screams and tries to hit them. Uncle and Father have no clue what to do with the now-docile Jinchuuriki.

——

None of the others see him.

That’s okay.

Bee-san is his favorite.

The red boy won’t stop crying, and he just wants to cheer him up.

The light blonde can’t feel him there.

——

A blood-soaked scroll finds its way to the island. Bee learns the techniques, and the blonde watches. 

(He gets the feeling that it’s how the scroll got here in the first place.)

 


End file.
